


In Ruins

by MsBee



Series: Lore and Ishara - Eclectic Tales [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Romance, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 09:42:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18848485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBee/pseuds/MsBee
Summary: When a business situation turns sour Lore and Ishara find themselves on the run.To the android a ruined city seems like the perfect place to hide.But Ishara isn’t so sure....





	In Ruins

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ligaments](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18683008) by [Konstantya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konstantya/pseuds/Konstantya). 



The pursuit across the wasteland had been relentless. The stolen maintenance buggy bounded across the flats at top speed, outstripping the heavy tank-like vehicles with their artillery.

Ishara clung tight to the roll cage of the buggy, glancing back occasionally. “We’ve lost them,” she said, shouting to be heard over the noise of the wind whipping past. “Slow down!”

“Not yet,” Lore yelled back, the white flash of his grin telling her that he was enjoying himself immensely.

A situation turning sour was not unusual in their line of business, but few negotiations had ended as abruptly as this one. Fortunately Lore never liked to be without an escape route - although throwing a flash grenade into the midst of the Rohar gang, then taking off across the sand in the first vehicle he saw did lack his usual meticulous planning.

Perhaps the android had anticipated trouble from the start - he had point blank refused to bring their Pakled ship into weapons range of the gang’s headquarters, instead choosing to leave it in orbit over a small but legitimate settlement elsewhere on the planet and hire alternative transport to their remote destination.

The decision was a double edged sword - the ship would be safe, it was designed to be a trade vessel after all and would arouse no suspicion where it was, but the distance meant that they were beyond transporter range. If things went wrong - which they had - running was the only option.

The terrain was changing, level ground replaced by teeth-rattling hills. Ishara bounced along, not afraid - the android had the driving under precise control - but uncomfortable.

“Is this a road?” she asked suddenly. The rough track that they had started following seemed to be gathering cohesion, turning into a concrete strip half covered in sand.

“Must have been a highway,” Lore answered, gunning the engine to take them up a steep rise. He added something about stupid organics destroying things with their wars, but the exact words were blown away, leaving Ishara with only the vague sentiment.

His speech was prophetic. As the buggy crested the dune Ishara saw on the horizon the remnants of a city, the once tall buildings wrecked and twisted against the blue sky. A crumbling road bridge spanned a wide ravine ahead, linking the ruins to the mainland.

The road led directly to it, blessedly downhill all the way.

 

 

The ancient barricade stretched from one side of the bridge to the other, firmly blocking the way into the city. Rusted vehicles had been piled up to shoulder height, then filled with thick chunks of concrete and metal in an attempt to add weight and substance to the construction.

It was impossible to guess how long ago the barrier had been erected, but judging by the layer ofmoss and tufts of grass that grew rampantly in all the cracks it had been there quite some time. Even in it’s present state of decay it would be impossible to take a vehicle over.

Lore brought the buggy to a screeching halt inches in front of it, shaking his head in disgust.

“Get out. Go look in the trunk,” he snapped. “These rigs usually have a survival kit.”

Ishara obeyed, finding a backpack and small toolbox, then stood aside as he turned the vehicle round, facing it back in the direction they had come from. He tapped a string of commands into the onboard nav-comp then leapt out himself, watching as the buggy roared into life and began to head off at speed, returning along the bridge toward the sands.

“That’ll confuse the idiots.” Lore was contemptuously dismissive as he took the backpack from her, placed the toolbox inside and shouldered it as if it weighed nothing. “I can’t believe they got so bent out of shape over an extra ten million credits.”

Ishara glared at him but kept quiet. If he hadn’t suddenly decided to raise the price of the information they were trying to sell they wouldn’t be being chased at all. “Are we close enough to the ship to beam out yet?”

“Pffft. Nowhere near.”

They scrambled up over the blockade, the android moving easily and Ishara lagging behind as she sought to find safe footholds in the overgrown heap.

The city looked as if it had been pounded and twisted by giant hands - metal structures impossibly torn apart, concrete skyscrapers blasted into holes, streets filled with rubble - the destruction was on a grand scale.

Yet whatever carnage had taken place here it must have been part of the distant past. As with the barricade on the bridge, nature had flourished around the buildings, claiming them with thick coverings of vines and other vegetation that had not simply grown overnight. Trees grew up in the remains of office blocks, their tall green heads poking out atop the broken concrete shells.

As they drew closer Ishara remembered the ruined cities of her home. The destruction on Turkana IV had been more recent than in this place, but the devastated buildings and fallen boulders were almost familiar. Her gut twisted with an overwhelming dislike for the place.

“Quite a city - once,” Lore observed, staring up at the overgrown structures.

“We should get on the road round the edge. Stay out of the ruins. There are too many places for an ambush.”

He threw her a derisive glance, “Anything that happened here is over a long time ago.”

“You’d be surprised how stubborn people can be,” Ishara countered. “There’s no advantage to going through - anything good will have been picked up by scavengers.” She took a few steps further in her chosen direction, keen to continue.

The android lingered, his pale face tilted up to the afternoon sunlight, “It’s almost beautiful.”

“Really?”

“There’s beauty in desolation.”

“Not for me.”

There was a silence. Ishara could feel Lore’s eyes on her back, but she didn’t look round. Lore must have piloted his ship over the ruined cities when he crash landed on her planet. He was intelligent enough not to need an explanation of her distaste for the ruins, and she didn’t feel any desire to offer him one.

Far behind in the wasteland they had crossed there was a distant explosion. They turned together to see a plume of smoke and dust rising over the horizon. The maintenance buggy.

Their pursuers weren’t exactly close - but they were coming.

“We need to get undercover,” Lore said. “Now.”

 

 

The building had once been a hotel, that much was obvious by the tattered remains of the lobby. There was a crumpled reception desk, a torn up seating area, an empty gap in the wall that could only have been an elevator shaft. Ishara could see little pieces of burgundy and gold flocked wallpaper under the green vines that had wound in from outside. “This place must have been grand,” she murmured.

“Yeah, before a plasma missile detonated the front of it,” Lore smirked, barely sparing a glance for the historical artefacts that lay scattered around.

Outside the rubble was stacked up, as if an uncoordinated attempt had been made to reclaim the city, resulting in some streets being blocked completely while others were bare. It would be easy to get lost, to lose the straight road that they had entered on and their goal was to get through at speed, come within transporter range of the ship and beam away from this place.

Lore had decided that it would be easier to move fast if they pressed forward inside the ruins where the fallen debris would hopefully be less - and maybe he was right because although the front of the lobby floor was filled with masonry that had spilled in from the street, here and there at the back between the steep piles of stones were squares of gold hotel carpet, untouched by the destruction, simply rotting away with time.

The android ran quickly, graceful over the changing surfaces, able to react with lightning speed to any shifts in the ground.

For Ishara it was a different matter - at least the rubble on the street was tightly packed, here in the lobby it moved and slipped in places, making it a challenge to keep her balance. She picked her way along the far wall, keeping on the old carpet as much as possible, half running, half staggering, as the android disappeared through a hole into the next building on the street.

In the end it was her desire to keep up with Lore that proved to be her undoing - she stepped blindly into a pile of small pebbles that slid under her boot, spinning her in the air.

She let out a cry of pain as she landed on her backside, her foot twisted awkwardly under her.

After a few seconds Lore came back to her, his face etched with impatience.

“My- my ankle,” she moaned, feeling the blood drain from her face.

“Don’t you dare faint,” the android snapped. He lifted her to her feet, pulled her arm over his shoulder, taking most of her weight, then started off across the uneven surface at a rapid pace. Ishara managed to hop in stride for a moment or two before her good foot skidded on the rubble and almost buckled,”Lore, stop. Stop! This won’t work!”

He dragged her on a few extra steps, then released her. Ishara sank to her knees, tears of pain blurring her vision. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she knew that she could not manage the journey through the city.

“Lore, it’s ok,” she said in a dull tone. “Just leave me here. I’ll hide somewhere.”

The android shot her a look of pure disgust mingled with incredulity.

Ishara swallowed hard and continued. “You- you can get to the ship without me slowing you down. Bring it back and beam me out.”

“Shut up.” He was looking around, scanning the area quickly for some place of safety. Outside there was a reverberating crunch - were their pursuers trying to clear the bridge blockade by firing at it or ramming it with their tank? Both ideas lacked finesse, but one might just work.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Did I just tell you to shut up?!” Seeming to reach a decision Lore slipped off the backpack he was carrying and placed it on her shoulders, then, too quickly for Ishara to object, he stood her up, tilted her forward and pulled her over his shoulder in it’s place. She dangled nauseatingly - her top half over his shoulder, face against his back, the weight of the backpack threatening to topple her over completely. “Put your arms around me,” he ordered, crossing to a metal ladder half hidden in the old elevator shaft. “And try to keep still.”

 

 

Ishara was sure that she passed out several times on the long and tortuous climb. Her weight must have shifted on the android’s shoulder because she was aware of his fingers pressing painfully into her thigh now and then, his voice urging her to stay focused, threatening to let her go if she moved.

The metal ladder seemed endless - it must be an emergency access for the elevator shaft that was designed to carry guests to every floor of the hotel. They ascended quickly in spite of Lore’s burden. At regular intervals the shaft opened into doorways and Ishara had brief upside down glimpses of the world outside - sometimes empty hotel corridors, sometimes fresh air and foliage where the building had been ripped apart.

After a while the android paused and slid her weight so that her body with the backpack strapped to it was across his shoulders and her legs were turned to the side. Ishara never thought of herself as lightweight, but he hefted her as easily as if she were a doll. “Lore?” she whispered, trying to avoid looking down but unable to help herself. They were so high up she could only see the base of the shaft as a tiny square of light below.

“The ladder is broken. I’m going to jump up to the next section.”

“You’re going to what?!”

“You might want to hold on. And maybe close your eyes.”

Perversely Ishara felt a desire to keep them open but the dizziness was overwhelming and she shut them tight, clinging on to Lore. She heard him laugh softly - at her? Or at the sheer lunacy of what he was attempting? - then felt his body tense before he leapt high into the air. There was a stomach churning second of nothingness then a jolting lurch as he grabbed onto the rungs above, followed by the screech of bending metal as he scrambled a little, then jumped again. He caught something, seemed to slip back and Ishara felt a moment of pure terror before he finally managed to steady himself on the higher ladder.

“Pfffft. Piece of cake,” he muttered, then patted Ishara cheerfully on the backside.

Heart still racing, she groaned and kept her eyes closed as they continued to ascend.

Lore must have decided that the gap in the broken ladder was enough to deter all pursuit because he stopped climbing soon after, stepping carefully out of the elevator shaft onto the solid concrete that had formed one of the floors of the hotel.

This level had an open plan arrangement - maybe it had been a restaurant or bar with an incredible view of the city, judging by the huge windows along the far wall. There was no glass in them now and green tendrils of the vine had curled in, some growing thickly along the ceiling, some swaying loose in a gentle curtain.

Lore sat Ishara in a sunny spot at one edge of the room, then moved to the window and took a swift glance downwards, checking the street. Obviously it was still empty because he returned to her side and eased the backpack off her shoulders so that she could rest against the wall.

He tipped the bag out with a shake and began to sort through the contents. Ishara watched, making a mental list - comm device, foil survival blanket, some dried food bars, a canteen of liquid, another small packet which the android studied for a second. “Painkillers.” He took a swallow from the canteen, seeming to analyse the contents. “Water,” he pronounced finally, handing it to her with the packet. “They’re way out of date but worth a try. Take two.”

Ishara obeyed, watching Lore as he picked up the comm device and began to fiddle, cycling through various channels. They were all silent, and the android put it aside again with a satisfied smirk. Evidently their pursuers were not close by.

Finally he turned to her with an unfamiliar expression that resembled concern. “I need to take your boot off,” he said softly, bending down beside her. Ishara bit her lip, wanting to be brave in front of him but afraid that she would disgrace herself by weeping from the pain. Her ankle throbbed horribly and when Lore bared her foot she felt the dizziness swirling over her again. She slumped back, fighting the tears.

“It’s swollen, but there are no bones sticking out,” he sat back on his haunches, running a hand through his dark hair. “I can’t tell if it’s broken or not without a diagnostic device. The temperature is normal, not cold. Can you feel this?” He placed his fingers lightly over the swelling. Ishara nodded, knowing it was a good sign that she still had feeling - even if the feeling was agony. Lore stripped off his loose coat, balled it up and pushed it under her leg, raising it slightly. “I’m going to take a look around this place.”

 

 

Darkness fell swiftly over the city. In the absence of artificial lighting the old hotel was filled with thick shadows. Through the empty windows buildings were etched in vague outline by the moonlight, ghostly towers that rose up like phantoms, indistinct yet visible through the gloom. Not one light shone out in the ruins - perhaps the best evidence yet that the city was truly empty.

Ishara sat in the blackness, dozing fitfully. Although her rational mind knew that there was no one lurking in the shadows she still found herself starting awake at every noise. Between her ankle, which throbbed and twinged with each movement, and her hyper-alert senses, she felt that real sleep was impossible.

Lore had returned from his earlier exploration of the building looking smug. He’d found a tiny store cupboard that must have auto locked when the power went off years ago. Apparently no one had ever bothered to blast it open, probably figuring that the contents would be destroyed - Lore had simply wrenched the metal door off it’s hinges. He had found bandages, a thin roll-up mattress and a small solar powered lantern which he immediately placed in a pool of late afternoon sunlight.

Ishara had listened quietly as he told her about his treasure hunt. The painkillers were beginning to work, relieving the agony but also producing a feeling of drowsy disconnectedness. Lore settled her on the mattress so he could bind her ankle with the bandage, complaining about medieval medical treatments as he did so.

Ishara observed him closely, unable to reconcile his gentle movements with his angry impatience in the lobby earlier. She was clearly a nuisance to him, but he hadn’t left her when presented with the opportunity to do so.

She recklessly opened her mouth to ask him why he had stayed, but fortunately at that moment the comm device had spluttered into life with a burst of static.

Lore had listened for a moment to the guttural language of the Rohar. “They didn’t get the tank through. They’re on foot,” he reported, eyes sharp with vicious pleasure. He picked up the empty backpack from the floor along with the little toolbox they’d retrieved from the maintenance buggy. “Don’t run off,” he deadpanned, heading toward the elevator shaft again.

That had been over three hours ago. The comm transmissions had continued for a while as dusk fell, then ceased abruptly leaving Ishara oddly unsettled. The medication she had taken made her eyes heavy, but deep sleep eluded her and she ended up sitting uncomfortably upright in an effort to stay focused.

It wasn’t as if she was worried about Lore down there alone. He was probably having a great time stalking their pursuers through the deserted city. The tone of the messages that had come through on the comm before it cut off indicated that there was some kind of threat on the streets that had the Rohar rattled. She could easily imagine the android using his superhuman abilities to pick them off from the shadows one by one, grinning maniacally as he did so.

No, Lore would be fine - it was herself she was worried about.

Perhaps the most sensible thing to do would be to activate the lantern and drive the darkness back, but the fear that she would reveal her location to anyone who happened to be in the ruins was overwhelming. To be found by an enemy like this - immobilised, alone and drowsy - was a terror from her deepest rooted nightmares.

She was gripped by a sense of deja vu, the fanciful notion that her past and present were colliding. She was waiting in the darkness, cold and scared, but for who - her lover? Or her sister?

For Lore, her brain insisted, trying to push back against the confusion to focus on the present.

Yet somehow all she could think of were the ruins of Turkana IV and the time she had spent hiding as a child, waiting for Tasha to return.

 

 

Tasha always flatly refused to take Ishara scavenging in the city, no matter how much she begged. The older girl would find a dry alcove, spread their blanket down and tell her sister to cover herself up and keep silent. Then Tasha disappeared for as long as it took, sometimes not returning until dawn when she would bring food and sleep herself for a while.

Ishara had hated it. Every noise was torture for an imaginative child left alone - a distant fall of masonry had become the terrifying footsteps of the rape gangs, a small snuffling had turned into a savage wild animal that was trying to sniff out her hiding place. She had cowered under the blanket, at times shaking with fear, waiting for the night to pass, wishing that she were old enough to not be left behind.

If sleep didn’t claim her as the hours wore on she would be consumed with worry - had something happened to Tasha - what if she were injured or worse? Then who would look after them? Tasha hated the large cadres and minor gangs with equal intensity and didn’t trust the other grown-ups, - teachers and doctors who tried to help the slum kids. Tasha said although they seemed nice these grown-ups might decide it was best to split them up and give them to other families, then they’d never see each other again.

Miraculously, Tasha had always returned, often with her pockets full. Looting the ruins had been profitable back then and the treasures that her sister found were enough to feed them, maybe not well, but at least they hadn’t starved.

Tasha had an eye for trinkets - small things like unbroken china, glass animals, antique books. Ishara remembered gasping over the beautifully crafted objects, amazed that people had once made such trifles. Sometimes her older sister knew stories about the items - what they had been used for, or where they had come from - and she would regale Ishara with fantastic tales of forgotten times and other places, transporting the little girl beyond the darkness for a few precious hours.

Hiding in the city was better when Tasha was there. Back then it seemed as if her big sister always knew what to do. If there was a noise Tasha knew what it was, if they heard voices Tasha knew when to stay put in their hiding place and when to slip away.

Tasha had always been brave and capable, even as a young woman. In those days she had been the centre of Ishara’s world, an inspirational figure representing the sum of knowledge and security.

 

 

As Ishara got a little older the treasures grew scarce, and consequently their clothes became more worn, their bellies hungrier. Sometimes Tasha came back empty handed, or injured when a scuffle broke out over some tiny item, and, although the older girl still insisted that this was better than joining a cadre, Ishara began secretly to wonder.

Blind obedience to her sister had worn thin. She had reached the age where questioning authority was natural and there was a growing part of her that resented her bossy big sister who made all the decisions.

I do these things to keep you safe, Tasha had told her sharply when Ishara whined for the hundredth time. After that there had been sulky silence.

Ishara had grown to hate feeling that she was a burden - a hungry chick that sat helplessly in the nest needing to be fed - and the promises of the cadres were alluring. She could be warm and safe - and Tasha could be free. All she needed to do was choose a side.

Even now, Ishara could clearly remember the horror on Tasha’s face when she proudly showed her sister the new magnetic implant embedded in her chest. Irrevocable proof that she was no longer Tasha’s problem. “I don’t want you to worry about me any more,” she had said firmly. “The Coalition will take care of me.”

“Oh, Ishara, what have you done?” Tasha had moaned, her green eyes filling with tears. “What have you done?!”

Ishara had tried to persuade her sister to join the cadre too, but when she failed she had assumed her place in the Coalition tunnels without a backward glance. She wholeheartedly believed in her new cause - her new family - and was endlessly grateful for a place to sleep, regular meals to eat, and most of all, the chance to feel useful.

In all honesty even now, years later, Ishara found it hard to think of her choice as a mistake. It had been her choice, perhaps the first decision she had ever truly made for herself, and for a long while - up until the starship Enterprise arrived in the skies of Turkana IV - the Coalition had been enough.

What she did regret, was deeply ashamed of, was the way she had revelled in her new loyalty without even a thought for the loyalty she should have had to her sister who had cared for her for so long.

Sitting in the darkness Ishara wiped her sleeve across her dry, aching eyes. She’d never even thanked Tasha. When they parted for the last time they had both been angry, each infuriated by the other’s refusal to compromise. Now it was too late.

 

 

A metallic clang in the elevator shaft broke the silence and Ishara couldn’t suppress a startled yelp. She twisted round, her heart beating wildly, and saw Lore’s head coming into view on the ladder.

He was back! Ishara felt an overwhelming surge of relief, coupled with irrational annoyance that he’d been gone so long.

“I thought you left,” she snapped shakily as he sauntered over to her, his face pale and ghostly in the gloom.

“Really?” There was a strange challenge in his tone, “Well, now I’m back.”

“You didn’t have to-.”

“Shut up.” He pulled a thick blanket from his shoulder and dropped it over her. A strange memory of an old holo vid popped into Ishara’s head of someone silencing a parrot by covering the cage.

“The comm went quiet over an hour ago,” she said, trying not to sound accusatory. She leant forward to spread the fabric out, her limited movement making it awkward to reach to cover her swollen toes. “What happened to the Rohar?”

Lore smirked, “They’re still here. In body, if not spirit.”

“Will more come?”

“I used the tank comms to send a transmission to their headquarters informing the gang that we were safely captured and they would be returning at first light. It should be sufficient to stall them.”

“They might send a ship...”

The android shook his head thoughtfully, “I can’t imagine they’re that bothered - I mean, it’s not like we stole anything from them.”

He activated the small solar lantern he’d salvaged earlier then settled cross legged on the floor by her feet and began to remove electrical parts from the backpack. There was quite a collection and Ishara belatedly realised that the noise she had heard as he appeared must have been one of the longer metal pieces swinging against the ladder. “All items courtesy of our friends and their tank,” he explained, seeing her surprise at his haul. “The city has been picked clean.”

“Told you so.”

“I bow to your prophetic powers,” he retorted with flat sarcasm.

“Anything useful would have had value for sale or trade,” Ishara replied, then, aware that she was being ungracious, she added, “You were right about this place being deserted though. I guess when there was nothing left to take people just moved on.”

“Maybe they all went underground. Murdered each other in tunnels instead,” he answered pointedly.

She looked away, “Maybe.”

There was a long pause. Ishara could feel the android’s assessing stare but she kept her gaze averted. His uncanny powers of observation could tell him that her eyes were red, her breathing unsteady, her pulse raised - all from one sharp glance. It was one of his most maddening tricks. It was irritating to be so naked to him, to know that her emotions were laid out in telltale signs for him to read and sometimes sneer at. Her best defence was always to ignore him, to pretend that he wasn’t even looking at her - it was juvenile, but surprisingly it often worked.

As she had hoped Lore concluded his scrutiny and looked down, reaching into his pocket to pull out a bottle, “Here. The last useful item left in this city - a souvenir from days gone by.”

“What is it?”

“Something to sweeten your temper.”

There was no label. It looked like some kind of homemade brew probably laid down a century ago. Ishara pulled out the cork with her teeth, took a sip, then coughed as the sweet, strong, berry flavoured alcohol caught the back of her throat.

They sat together quietly. The lantern drove the shadows away and Ishara relaxed a little, sipping the sugary mixture and eating a dried food bar while Lore inspected the gadgets he’d retrieved.

To Ishara it looked like a random assortment - blank instrument panels, tall metal struts with trailing wires, a power cell and a comm dish - possibly the android had just ripped the comm mast off the top of the tank. It was hard to imagine what he intended to do with the parts. “Useful?” she asked, putting the empty packet and bottle down.

Lore raked his fingers through his hair in a familiar gesture of uncertainty. “Potentially. I need to think it out.” He took the small toolbox out from his jacket, selected a thin spanner and began to tinker, stripping the parts into their basic components.

“You didn’t activate the lantern when you were alone. You really thought there might still be people in the ruins,” he said suddenly, shooting her a sidelong look. It was a statement rather than a question yet she could see curiosity in his eyes.

“Perhaps,” Ishara replied. Maybe there was more alcohol in the bottle of cordial than she’d guessed because her hatred for the city overflowed and she blurted out, “Empty places like this attract troublemakers. If you’re a small man who wants to feel like a king - look, a whole kingdom!”

The android frowned, “What if you’re a big man who just wants to be left alone?”

Ishara laughed bitterly and shook her head, “It’s all right for you - you’re strong. You’d kill a few people, make the rest fear you and they’d all stay away.”

Lore smirked, “True.” He continued uncoupling the control circuits, then asked thoughtfully, as if he was trying to imagine someone else’s viewpoint, “What would I do if I was weak?”

The honest answer would encompass half her childhood - the hiding, the waiting, the fear - and it was impossible to drop her guard enough to confide in him that way. To her surprise a part of her actually wanted to - the part that was drowsy, exhausted by injury, softened by alcohol - that part wanted to put her head down and weep like the child she had been, to sob out the past in the vain hope that he would comfort her.

“Just hide and hope, I suppose,” she mumbled.

“Or join one of the gangs,” he said slowly, raising his gaze to pierce her with golden eyes that glittered in sudden triumphant comprehension. “Because then I would have protection. No one else would need to look after me.”

“Lore..,” she said his name unsteadily, making it half protest, half plea. He was so clever and he saw too much. She could almost hear the next comment - about her sister - and if he continued she knew it would be more than she could bear tonight.

“You’re shivering,” he said abruptly. It sounded like an accusation. He moved next to her, quickly rearranging the heavy wool blanket to cover her properly, then tucking the thin foil sheet over the top. To her surprise he didn’t return to his former position but sat on the mattress next to her, easing himself under the covers and wrapping his arms round her shoulders.

Ishara found herself propped against his chest, surrounded by his warmth. For an android, a creature of cool metal, circuits and wires, he always gave off a surprising heat. He rubbed her arms lightly under the blanket until the trembling that had gripped her stopped - did he know that it had been due as much to her turbulent emotions as it was to the cold? Ishara wasn’t sure, but she felt strangely comforted by his embrace.

The solar charge in the lantern was dying now, and shadows were gaining the scene. She let her head rest against his shoulder, reassured by his solid presence in the growing darkness.

“Did you really think I’d leave you?” he asked her suddenly. His tone held a hint of wounded feelings, as if he couldn’t believe that her opinion of him was so low.

Ishara considered it for a moment. “N-no,” she began hesitantly, “but...”

“But?” There was a dangerous edge to the word.

“But staying wasn’t the logical thing to do. You could have left me up here, I’d probably be safe enough. You move so fast you could have been back with the ship by morning.”

“Ah, logic.” His voice was low and intimate, his mouth brushing her ear lightly, and she knew he wouldn’t miss the way she shivered again even though she felt heat all the way to her core. “I’m not a Vulcan, Ishara.”

“No,” she agreed, wondering exactly what his comment meant. Was he saying he wasn’t ruled by logic like a Vulcan - obliquely telling her that his decision to stay had been an emotional one, a choice that no Vulcan would make?

She had the odd feeling that she might be missing something important, but was too tired to try to puzzle it out. Anyway, Lore was brimful of emotions. He was a walking contradiction - so dark, laconic and cynical, but simultaneously bright and burning with passion.

If she had to be in this ruined hellhole with anyone, she was glad it was him. “I’m glad you stayed,” she whispered, winding her fingers into his under the blanket.

Lore laughed as if the words pleased him, and she thought she felt the light brush of a kiss against her hair, “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

 

 

The birds sang brightly, their chirruping rhythmic and insistent.

Ishara opened her eyes slowly, her brain struggling to make sense of the loud and unfamiliar noises. After months of waking to an artificial morning on a spacecraft being roused by nature was an interesting, if not entirely pleasant, novelty. She sat up, trying to focus on the fluttering creatures. They were small red birds, all agitatedly pecking at something hidden by the curtain of vines.

“They have a nest up there,” Lore said. He sat on the edge of the glassless window, his legs dangling into the void below, his face toward the rising sun. His pale skin shimmered as it caught the rays and Ishara was struck anew by how alien he looked - and how beautiful, like a golden sculpture that had come to life.

“What are you doing?” she asked, smiling a little at her fanciful, half awake thoughts.

“Watching the dawn break over this fair city.”

Ishara shook her head in disbelief, “You really like it, huh?”

“I’m a king surveying my kingdom,” he replied expansively, spreading his arms as if to embrace the ruins. He glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow, “Although I think my queen detests it?”

She pulled a face, trying to hide a sappy rush of pleasure at being called his queen. “Put it this way: if I never saw this planet again it wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

The android nodded, then heaved a mock sigh and stood in a fluid movement, “You ready?”

Ishara felt anything but ready - her ankle was stiff and painful. She dreaded the moment when she would have to try putting her boots on or, heaven forbid, walking. “I guess.”

She had expected him to help her to her feet, but to her surprise he knelt, put her arm round his shoulders, then scooped her up and stood holding her in both his arms. Ishara had the strangest recollection of an ancient romantic painting where a knight in a suit of armour was carrying a maiden the same way - probably rescuing her from some peril. But she was no maiden and Lore could just as easily toss her out one of the windows.

“Well?” she asked expectantly, waiting for him to put her down.

“Well?”

“This is going to be awkward going down that ladder.”

His grin was a masterpiece of self satisfaction, “We’re not going down, we’re going up.”

Before she could respond he wheeled around and began to stride quickly across the hotel floor. There were large holes in the concrete here and there and Ishara caught glimpses of the lower levels like separate worlds far below. Lore skirted the gaps easily, his speed unchanging.

In the far corner of the room there was a doorway, and through it a landing with flights of stone steps leading upwards and downwards - perhaps it had once been a fire escape. The android ascended, still carrying her as easily as if she were a child, and soon they were emerging onto the flat roof of the hotel.

Ishara blinked in the sunlight, disoriented by the sudden brightness. At this height the rest of the city was spread before them like a toy town, and with a sinking heart she realised just how far it would be to walk to the other side.

In the middle of the concrete there was a tall silver construction that resembled an emitter. It’s thin metal legs gave it a spindly look at the base, but at the centre there was a chunky control panel which was topped by a dish-like antenna. At close quarters Ishara recognised some of the parts that Lore had stripped from the Rohar tank the night before. “What is that?”

“A range amplifier. I built it last night while you were asleep.” Supporting her weight with one arm he reached across to the control panel with the other and activated the beacon. It lit up, blue fibre cables leaping into life along the thin struts, then began to pulse with a steady hum.

“So we can transport from here?” she gasped in amazement. “You never intended to bring the ship over the city to beam us out!”

“Logically,” he stressed the word heavily, quirking a sarcastic eyebrow at her, “it would have been a dumb idea. Who knows what ships are up there? The shields on a Pakled trade ship would be no match for the Rohar gang’s firepower.” He shrugged and added, “And this way you don’t have to walk either - also logical.”

Ishara laughed, giddy with relief. “Wow. My hero.”

Unintentionally her comment came out sounding more sincere than sarcastic. There was a moment’s silence as they stared at each other, both surprised by her genuinely appreciative tone, both wondering if she would say more - or take the sentiment back somehow. Perversely stubborn, Ishara kept silent and was amused to note that the android’s golden eyes widened slightly.

“Pfffft,” he replied, looking suddenly wary. “As if.”

Enlightened by the hilarious realisation that Lore did not want to be anyone’s hero, that it went against his self image to be thought of as gentlemanly and caring, Ishara opened her mouth to tell him how big a hero he actually was. After all, it was no lie. He had been great, mostly - he had carried her out of danger, tended to her injury, held her when she was secretly needed him to, and now he was being thoughtful - for Lore, it was quite a list.

“You know,” she began slowly, grinning at his discomfiture, “You are getting to be very-”

With a roll of his eyes and perfect timing, Lore activated his thumbnail transporter and her words were cut off as the duo dematerialised in a shimmer of stars leaving the ruined city empty once again.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Heh, heh, heh. I was writing the end and it suddenly occurred to me how much Lore would hate anyone thinking he was gentlemanly or heroic. XD  
> Ok, so this is all inspired by Konstantya’s Ligaments and the discussion in the comments for that story - initially Lore was going to be injured, but I couldn’t be bothered to write all the technobabble about his android innards so it had to be Ishara - sorry, girl. :/  
> How did it get so loooong? I can only say that I love a post apocalyptic city and, once I’d started writing, it occurred to me that Ishara has been alone in the dark before so there was another layer to my simple hurt/comfort idea.


End file.
